Questions, and how to answer them
by Darius Styler
Summary: Caught by his own men at arms and treated as a Scourge Spy, Darius must face whatever torture his own men can throw at him to hide his mission. Will he escape?


Questions ...And how to answer them – Dan Smith

Part One

Isn't it fascinaing how the sudden clocking motion of a firearm is a tool used to draw the attention of any sane person. Even the look of such a device distills a sense of fear into the blood stream, pushing the heart to race faster and leave the being a sweating and shaking mess before their assailiant. Even pressing the still burning hot barrel under your jaw, forcing you to look into their eyes as they beat their questions into your head, again and again and again from the hardened steel of their metal knuckles, seems to work a treat too.

There were four men in the room, three if you are counting those still alive. The forth took an unfortunate fall onto his own blade, all I did was apply a little pressure to the hilt to make sure he received the point properly. Stabled to a chair, hands behind my back and held by Iron Shackles. Typical Alliance garbage found on the hip of any so called 'Officer' or 'Law Enforcer' that if tampered with in the right way are about as usefull as tits on a bull. I catch another pound to the face from the guards armoured gauntlet. It was held back, clearly he has never beaten someone for information before.

I groan into the gag in my mouth, make it seem like they are winning. Why wouldn' they be? Looking down at an aparent 'Spy of the Scourge' as he is gagged and bound onto a chair. Blood falling from his nose, forehead, arm chest...where else am I bleeding? Ah yes, the leg too.

He's panting, clearly out of breathe. Only been here five minutes taking his hits and he's already tiring out. Thats never good, he`ll be replaced soon enough, probably by some lower rank trying to get somewhere in life, do anything for a silver coin or two. They usually tend to hit the hardest. Farm boys, Enlisted Militia, either way they have had a hard life who have no worries in beating the already tenderised flesh around my face and chest.

The guard grabs a seat, dropping it down in front of me as he takes a seat, trying to show his authority over me. He can't fool me, he's exhausted.

"So...Why don't you tell me what you are doing here, and why you are asking so many questions about the Commander, Hmm? Spy?"

He demands. Do I tell him? Do I break my cover to stop the pain and just tell them what they want to hear to perhaps spare my life? Like Hell. I tell them I`m a dead man, regardless of if I play by their rules or not. He yanks the gag from my mouth, seemed like an after thought, like he had only just realised I couldn't talk until he had pulled the scrap from chafing at my skin.

"...Well...yeh know meh...ah jes' like yeh guys alo' ahn....Figured we could be pals...yeh know?"

Smoothe, doesn't answer his question, but enough to leave him curious. Curious enough to feel the need to smash my jaw with his armoured gauntlet again. That one hurt. His breathing picks up, heavy breathes, the armour around his chest constricting the air filling his lungs and before long he steps out of my line of sight behind me, gagging and heaving for air. Here comes the pain. Big guy, must be at least seven, maybe seven and a half feet tall? Similar to those Vrykul bastards you find in Icecrown but somehow tamed, as if he's the bastard child of a poor human lass who got raped by one. Probably what happened there.

Hanging loosely from his hands is a thick black chain, similar kind used to tie down the armaments on a Navy Vessel. A twisted grin pulls at his lips, he's going to enjoy this a little too much I think. Can't give him the benefit of the doubt. So much pain, can't show it.

My lips tug into a grin also, mostly blanketed with a thick layer of my own blood, the copper taste in my mouth, refusing to leave. There is one way it could.

The bohemouth leans down, his voice low, deep as he repeats the first guards question. Should I answer? I don't think so. I collect the bodily fluids in my mouth, huckering up all the power I could before spitting a mixture of blood, saliva and mucus onto the beasts cheek. Damn, I was aiming for his eye. A sudden uproar fills the room as he rears up, lashing the chain down hard on my shoulder, leaving me screaming into the darkness. There goes my shoulder, I could hear the click of bone grinding on bone. Dislocated, reduced my attack speed incredibly. Not enough to make me black out, good. Wear them out, make -them- stop for a break, demoralzise them that much more.

So I break? Do I stop and give them some more information?

"Are you going to talk? Hmm? Have anything to say now?"

First voice again. I`m guessing the big guy can't speak common so well.

"...Wai'...Wai' ah do...ah go' some'in the say...ah do.."

I burst out, letting the pain catch my voice. All at once there is movement in the room as the two soldiers from the side lines get up from their stools, waiting for what I have to say. I know how the policy works. Information isn't information at all unless its on paper in hand or from several mouths and not one. I wait for them to get a little close, ready to write down what I say. Assholes.

"....Wai'...fuck, nah, ah los' I' ahm sorry.."

I finally say, leaving them groaning and sitting back down on their stools with a thud from their armour. I simply laugh, lightly trained Glory Boi' these days simply can't take a good joke these days. Obviously not, when my laughter is greeted with another thwack from the chain and a scream my own lungs.

Part Two

Perhaps I should write a small song as I am left in my coldrock cell. You know the type. Blast steel door with a sall viewing hole for others to spy in on you, talk about you about their superiors as they judge and convict you simply due to how you look and dress. Small space, perhaps a two meter square all to yourself with a small window two meters over head. Not that it matters, no sunlight ever comes in here, not this part of the cells. Reserved purely for the spies, traitors and the other unfortunate bastards who were caught.

I shift around up against the wall, doesn't make for something to sleep against but I guess I can't complain really. The Alliance was nice enough to put a roof over my head ...with company it seems. An after thought of my own as I watch a small rat crawl through a small hole at the base of the eastern wall. Poor bugger is in the situation I am, just looking for some shelter and found himself in a holding cell of the Westguard Keep.

Night time. Not that the light is any indication as to the time, but no sound but the groning of the undead wondering the barren wastes of the pillaged village about half a click away is a dead give away that most of the fighting has stopped. Glory Boi's need their rest. Either that or they are all dead, if that was the case I might know soon enough as the ghouls and Necomancers make their way in to turn the prisoners into their own. Or, better yet they don't think of it, the smell of the mud around my armour could cover the smell of sweat building up underneath the thick blackened leather and I`m simply left in here to die. Heh, what a thought that is.

The latch of my cell door shifts, clicking open as two heavily armoured guards walk in, hands ready at the hilt of their swords. Lets see, Steel shortsword, maybe a three second draw and lunge time...just enough time for me have my hands around their necks. No, not yet, let them have their fun and maybe you can see what it is they want.

"Alright, Out...Time for your talk with the Captain.."

One of the guards grunts as he hooks an arm under my own, hoisting me to my feet. It was here when I realise how much energy, or the lack their of, I had as I stagger to one side into the cold wall. Answer me this, if you were a guard dealing with a suspected spy of the Scourge and you have been running the same routine of, waking him up, beating him senseless and dumping him back in his cell three hours later to rinse and repeat a few hours later. Would you really expect them to be able to stand up straight? Or walk? I didn't think so, but no, these uptight, self righteous bastards think otherwise, slamming a tempered saronite gauntlet into the back of my head, slamming my face against the brittle stones holding the cell in place. In other words, the wall. Not really that much of a suprise when I collapse to my knee's bringing a hand to my nose to try and cup the blood now flowing from my nose.

"I said Out!"

He yells, kicking my ribs in with his boot. There goes another rib, thats three since this whole thing started. I groan, pulling myself to my feet, just let the blood flow, maybe if your lucky they`ll give you something to mop yourself up. Yeah, I know its not going to happen, but I figured I should at least -try- and make the Alliance seem like such nice people because come on, they put a roof over my head, didn't they? As soon as I step foot out of my cell, the typical black bag goes over my head. Their smart, let me even have a glance at the structure of the walls and I could walk out of here blindfolded, well thats the plan anyway.

I counted three hundred and twenty-seven steps to my new room before I`m shoved back into the same chair, my hands shackled behind my back as the bag is pulled from my head. First thing I see, a fist, a very large fist pounding against my jaw, then again, then my temple, then my eye. Each hit throws my off balance, making the room spin a horses pace, and just as my eyes begin to focus, the next hit lands, throwing me off balance again.

"Thats enough! I think the good Captain deserves at least a few moments to explain himself.."

Well thats a dignified tone I haven't heard in a long time. Take a few deep breathes, spit the blood from your mouth, get your energy back up and just try to stop the world from spinning. My head rocks to one side, the lion of the Alliance tabbards on the soldiers around me glaring back. Makes me sick every time I see that damn beast, reminds me of every single act of desperation the Alliance is reduced to since that bastard, Wrynn, took over. Looking around I find there is another beside me in the same situation I am in. Bound to a chair, though he still has a bag over his head. His uniform though..Dark Blue...Gold trim, the Saber insignia on his shoulder with the diamond around it. Saber Unit, Alliance Recon Division, First Class. The hell is he doing here? A soldier catches my gaze, pulling the bag off of the man beside me to reveal his identity. I guess when it comes to looking up someones profile the Alliance Is good at that, very quick to condemn their own menas usual. It was my old partner. He looks around disorientated before looking down at me with his typical grin. The guy had obviously been beaten as well as I had.

"Darius? That you lad? Damn, you look rough.."

He almost laughs, ignoring the clear pain he was in. I nod, a smile catching my lips as I motion back to the other soldiers in the room who already were mumbling to themselves, trying to figure a way to shut us both up. Might aswell milk it for what it was worth.

"...Yeah, yeh know meh, ah always did like the play rough...specially when yeh go' ah few ladies in deh room, eh?"

I motion to our captives and before long, the guards were left with two captives, tied to chairs, beaten to a bloody pulp, and yet laughin their asses off. I will give you maybe only a single guess as to what thir solution to this problem was. Of course, you got it the first time round, they continued to beat us to a blooded pulp.

Typical Alliance Bastards, they never learn.

Part Three

Day five, at least thats what I think it is, It could very well still be the same day I came to this damn place, A few hours even. How many broken bones...three, two dislocated. They are losing their cool, hitting harder, resorting to methods that seem to cause more pain than will me to answer their questions.....Excellent. So here I am in my usual cell. Its raining outside again, its been down pouring since I first came here. The same drip from the ceiling dropping in several places in my cell, making it impossible to sit in a dry patch. No matter, gives me a chance to clean up, make myself look presentable the next time they summon me from my compartment. I haven't see my friend since our last conference. I wonder if he is in there now, probably, then it will be my turn. Now that there are two of us, I bet those pompus glory boys will try and turn us against one another, spread information about the other breaking under the stress, crumbling to their torture methods. I don't see that happening, there is a reason we were First Class.

The lock on my door shifts, the same two guards walk in, though their grip on their swords is some what more relaxed than before, probably because they know of my condition, well they would wouldn't they, they were the ones beating me day in and day out. Something is different this time round, they aren't demanding me to my feet, they simply walk in, grab me, slip the same black bag over my head. I know its the same one, it stills smells of my sweat and blood from the previous visits. Their pace has quickened, their hurrying themselves. Why? I guess I will find out soon enough. Probably some higher official orderering them around, putting them all on their heels. The wet from the rain kisses a the skin of my neck, I was outside, my feet unable to catch themselves in the now slush of once mud of a ground. Being pulled along I grunt into the bag over my head. Nothing, no grunts for me to be quiet, no strike to my face when I laugh. Simple Silence. Finally coming to a stop I`m forced to my knee's, the wet of the ground already finding their way into the seams of my leather pants, sticking to the skin on my legs. The bag is pulled from my head, my black hair already welcoming the rain to clean yesterdays blood from it, the sweat from my forehead, and my captive hands as they grabbed it to bring my head back into place for them to strike me again. My eyes strain in the dim light, wincing as they try to focus on my surroundings, find my barings again and stop the world from spinning. I groan again into my gag, it had already begun to cut intot he skin on my mouth. There were three men in front of me, their stance, how there are standing. Rifles in their hands, its a damn firing line. I guess all good things must come to an end some day.

There is a flurry of comotion from behind me, a guard yelling as the clash of plate against stone screaches into the thin air around us. I slowly turn back, it was my partner, already figured out a way from his cell. He shoots me a smile, his typical grin spread across his lips as he turns to bolt for the door. The fool, he didn't see the line of guns behind me. I close my eyes, shaking my head as the clocking of the guns follow in unison. For a few moments, only the sound of the rain striking the rooftops of the keep, filling the footprints in the mud with puddles is in the air, onlhy for the sudden barking of the musckets going off over head, tormenting at my ears. I didn't need to open my eyes, I knew what had happened. He was dead. The fool.

My heart slowly sinks that little lower, one of the few men I truly trusted in the world already a corpse not thiry feet from me, as I kneel down to the men I used to serve, their rifles already being reloaded. My mind becomes a photoalbum, the faces I once knew, some old, some new. Then I see her, simply grinning at me the usual way she used to. I can feel it, the adrenaline beginning to awaken, filling my bloodstream. My usual captive takes a step forward, grabbing a handfull of my hair to jerk my head back.

"I had my orders to kill the Scourge Spy today, I guess when the General asks for a body, there are still at least a few willing to take the bullets for you, isn't that right Captain?"

Cocky bastard, I would tear his throat out if my hands weren't bound, but he made one fatal mistake, now I know their plans, now I know their motives that gives me a look at their playing hand. A grin into my gag, nothing but the broken laughter filling my lungs as he tries to keep his composure, it faulters. He didn't expect to see the prisoner, just watching his friend die to be laughing, knowing what was in store. That crawled under his skin, pulling an ornate dagger from his hip, it was more of a shiney letter opener than a combat knife by the looks of things. He presses the blade under my eye, letting the sharpened egde to kiss at my skin.

"I know how you work, Darius...I know how you think. This is all a game to you, you simply do not care for these men, it is the very reason why you were cast out...Now, tell me...Why, are you here...What is the Scourge planning?"

Even if I tried, I couldn't help myself. These arrogant bastards still thing I am a Scourge Spy, well, all the fool for them. My heart fills with laughter, and unfortunatly for me, my lungs followed suit leaving me a shaking mess before the soldier as I fill the dampened courtyard with laughter.

Part Four

Nothing but darkness. No sound around me, not even the sound my own heart slowly beating what little blood there is left circulating in the stream can be heard. I try to move my arms, the binds were left on this time, pinning them behind my back and letting the iron shackles to cut into the skin around my wrists. I guess after my friend escaped, security has tightened up somewhat. The fool. The glorious bastard always did want to go out with a bang...I guess he got his wish. The bag was still over my head. Each breath I take simply taking in what thin air remained in the black cloth sack as the extra cloth placed over where my eye used to be to stop the bleeding. Either that or so that the guards didn't have to stare at the mess their superior had made. For a good four years that man was my Officer, My partner...My friend, and in an instant the bastards I served simply tur-....Don't let it in. Get the thoughts out of your head, your stronger than this. You let them in now then they win, and your dumped into the next hole with the rest of the recent dead. Try again at your bindings, you know how these things work. Two curved pieces of forged Iron. Bracings at one end, connectives at the other. Apply enough force and good hit against a wall to one side, the connection breaks.

I pull myself up to lean against the wall. The pain in my head growing more and more as I move. Don't let it get to you, think only of your muscles and their limitations. Push them to those limits and breathe, short and calm breathes. You have enough time. Taking a few breathes to calm myself down the pain in my head slowly begins to subside. I can't tell if the room is spinning, keep your eye closed. Don't focus on anything apart from yourself, breathe.

I release a low growl as I pull myself onto a knee, using the wall to brace myself. The acid in my blood burning at my muscles from the lack of food and water. Its fine, I can do this, just another step and I`m out of this Fel Fors-....

I crash to the ground on my chest, the shooting pain of my ribs giving me a friendly reminder of their current status, broken. You idiot, your pushing yourself too hard. Roll over, lift yourself up and try again. It must have taken a good twnety minutes to bring u the energy for such a simple task. Rolling from laying on your chest, laying on your back. Even then, each and every single movement was a world of pain. Then the sudden clack of the view port of my cell door shifts open. Dammit, I could have done it...Don't worry, just lie still. Don't make a sound.

There is a small hushed tone coming from behind the blast steel door, and before long a different voice barks through the viewing hole. Seemed a lot younger than my usual friendly guard, perhaps they were new.

"Hey! We have a dead one in here! Bring the Medic!"

They shout. The medic? Why would they need a medic for a cap-...Nevermind. I already see their plan. They want to keep me here for as long as possible, see how long it takes before I snap. In fact, it wouldn't suprise me at all if they planned the whole prison escape of my friend, making it look like that all hope was lost. The bastards....The fucking....Bastards. The Adrenaline begins to grow, forcing my already pleading heart to race faster, gifting my body the energy I needed. The latch quickly snaps open, feet around me shuffling around madly as the rattling of armour fills the air. Three people are in the room, I couldn't see them, but I knew, oh I knew. One wasn't wearing armour, I`m guessing this was the medic they called. The world suddenly becomes a blidnign light as the bag is pulled from my head, it was a Night Elf. Her eyes look into mine for the briefest of moments, but I could tell she didn't like what she saw. The warmth of her hand rests on my forehead as her thumb smoothes over the ragged cloth covering my eye.

"What happened here?"

Her voice, so calm, so collective. No Darius...She works for them. She would kill you in an instant if ordered to. I grunt, trying to move my head away from the womans grip. The blood slowly begins to calm as I see her, the anger that only recently just bagan to fuel me, slowly fading. Dammit...Why? Why now? No-one answered her, they simply gave her a stern look before motioning down at me as if I were a stray dog that needed putting down to put me out of my suffering. I know its not going to happen. I`m not that lucky. Her hands slowly begin to glow, one resting upon my forehead as the other lay flat against my chest. The welcomed warmth. My lungs slowly begin to fill with air as my ribs begin to click back into place. My remaining eye rolls closed as the pain begins to subside.

"Alright! Thats enough!"

Barks the guard, yanking the woman away from me. I guess he didn't want me in such a good condition that I could escape. He didn't want me to grin down at him as he lay on the ground unarmed as I have a blade in my hand. He didn't want to die. She rises to her feet, cursing something loud in her native language. I would usually be shaking at the knee's at such a sound, but not this time....Not this time.

"We want him alive, not well enough to to kill us!"

He shouts again, giving the woman a shove from the room. He turns his back to me, knowing my wounds weren't fully healed, thinking that I am still defenseless. Clear your head, take a deep breathe. Think of nothing but your body, its limits. Push yourself to those limits, and breathe. My mind slowly begin to calm, the raised voice beginning to diminish,. There we go...Silence. I open my eye to look up at my captives. They were shouting at one another, the elf clearly growing more aggitated by the man before her. The human. The whelp. Nothing but darkness. That what filled my head, nothing but the faint whisper of her voice.

'I`ll hold you to your promise, you come back to me..`

"For the last time woman! He is a murderer! A damn spy who deserves no quarter!"

Screams the man again, holding his arms out to make himself apear larger than usual...but I must ask you all something now. Something that will leave you all simply smiling. Isn't it fascinating how the sudden clocking motion of a firearm is a tool used to draw the attention of any sane person. Even the look of such a device distills a sense of fear into the blood stream, pushing the heart to race faster and leave the being a sweating and shaking mess before their assailiant. She looked scared, taking a slow step back, leaving the soldier looking confused. He turns around to where I had been laying. I was no longer laying. I was now standing before him. My hands were no longer unbound. The bag was no longer over my head. His own rifle now not an inch from from his forehead. He didn't even notice me moving, did he. Do I spare him? .....I think not.

Part Five

Today had been great. I saw my wife for the first time in almost a year. The daughter had said her first words last week, she was already saying my name while staring up at me with those beautifull blue eyes of hers. It is times like those that make this duty that much greater, giving me a reason to fight on and keep those like them, people like my wife and daughter, keeping them safe. Me and the lads came back with the Seventh Legion today, great bunch of guys them lot are. We were fighting outside the gates of Fordring Keep and the gates known as the Wrath Gates. The fighting there has been growing more intense. More men and women have been sent to push forward on the assault, though I personally think its a waste. The more soldiers we send there, the more that die. The more that die, means all the more foes to have to kill when those bodies stand back up.

We figured that its the virus running through their veins. Easy transported from one body to another. A bite, or a simple scratch from the ghouls, and you`ll have about another five hours, maybe less. Its corrosive to the skin, eating away at it as acid would a metal. The Alliance will figure out a cure, we must if we plan to end this war. If we don't, then a single ghoul could spark this whole thing again, a single ghoul could destroy a species.

Anyway, I guess its not my job to think about those type of things really is it? I`m just a sergeant after all. The warmth of the keep was a welcoming thing to return to. I give my nod of appreciation to the guards at the heavy doors the entrance. The usual Cobalt Clad armoured guards and their helmets, they make us all look so damn good with their pristine armour, their tabbards. Glorious. The lads had already made themselves comfortable in their barracks as usual, the cocky bastards. We barely escaped with our lives and their already acting as if their war heroes. You have to give it them though, we didn't lose anyone, not this time. Jackson turns back to me as I enter. A bottle is thrown to me, ale, strong stuff too.

"C'mon Sarge, you deserve a drink..."

He muses to himself as he takes another gulp himself. The smart ass, he knows we aren't allowed to drink while on duty. Thats the sort of things that get heroes fired or demoted.

"Thats alright, Jackson. I don't drink piss water...and you should either, not until your off duty that is.."

I mumble, tossing the drink back to him. I`m not going to take his though, or pull rank. I should, but he fought damn well today, I guess I could give the guy a break, but just this once. I sit myself down on my bed, only realising how much I needed it when my legs finally begin to beam at me with pain. I groan, laying onto my back. The only thing stopping me from falling asleep is the armour still strapped around my chest and back. There is a sudden rack at the door, and then again, much louder.

"Yeah!? It's open!"

Jackson yells. Cocky Bastard. The door swings open, it was Major Jhiphal. Good man that one, little bit of an anger problem, but good all the same.

"Get up ladies! Trouble in the Holding Cells! One Prisoner broke out, took a few guards with him!"

He bellows, leaving before I could tell him we had just returned. Ahh well, I guess that ale can wait for me to come back. I pull myself back to my feet, groaning as I go. Lets see, everything in check. Armour, Check. Sword, Check. Men? I give Jackson a good boot on the ass as he begins to sit up. He pulls the finger, grabbing his sword. I guess that means he is ready.

We push the door open to the holding cells. The lights we out, each of them smashed. Whoever is down here is smart, now we can't see a damn thing. I keep at the front, shield ready, rifle resting on its top, ready to fire. Jackson comes up behind me, same stance as the rest of the lads pile in single file. Thats the problem with these sets of armour, they are good, strong, but large. Can only fit two people side by side down these damn corridors. I signal for the rest of the lads to go down corridors in pairs as they pass, at least one set of us will find this escapee. Check your corridors, check each cell, make sure there isn't one that has been left slightly open for an ambush. The sudden barking of a rifle fills the hallway, then another. The flashes of the fire lighting up behind us. One of the lads had found him. Jackson turns back, covering my flank.

"Who fired!? Report!"

I bellow, only to hear my voice rattle in the small corridors. Nothing, no sound. Just darkness. Perhaps they didn't find him, perhaps he found them. Dammit, we need to keep moving, don't let his scare tactics get the better of you, remain focused. I take a few steps forward, Jackson keeping close to me, making sure no-one sneaks up from behind us. Another rifle goes off, much closer, only around the corner to us. I couldn't help it, I took a few hurried steps forward to the corner. I couldn't lose another one of my men, not after how much they had lived through, not after how close we became to going home. Not now. My armour rattles with everystep. Already I hear Jackson turning to me, shouting for me to come back, but I didn't listen. My mind is already racing, matching how quick I must have going down that forsaken corridor. Another rifle goes off, I am close. The sudden crashing of armour hitting the ground becomes all too aparent. It was one of my men, I just now it. I reach the corner. I will kill this son of a bitch. Reclaim the glory of those fallen, go home to my wife. Go home to my Daughter I will, I will not stop until I do. Finally the corner! I run around, sheild at the ready, but before I can bring my rifle to bare, I am already staring down the barrel of another....Dammit.

Do I spare him? ...I think not. I pull the trigger of the newly aquired rifle, letting the good feeling of the firearm kick back into my hand. The soldier crashes to the ground in a blooded heap. I reach down, grabbing the mans rifle. It doesn't take long for my eye to catch glimpse of a Sergeant Insignia dangling from the mans hip. Ah well, it was his own fault. He was probably an asshole anyway, another Glory Boy. My ears atune to the silence around me. Another hulking soldier coming. If this were your typical unit, there should be ten. A Sergeant, a Unit Leader and eight privates. Well...Here is the Sergeant, I have already killed four of these bastards, not inclusing the two in my cell and that medic. Five more then I`m out. I check the rifle had its payload ready to go, of course it did, excellent. I take a glance to the corner, yep, another soldier closing in as fast as that armour casing could allow him. Lets see, Imperial Plate, typical design. Only three places you can quickly kill a man from when he wearing that, wish me luck. I run around the corner, dashing from left to right, letting the black of my armour and the bag, now used as a hood to blend me into the darkness. The man drops to one knee, letting the flat of the shield cover his body as he brings the rifle to rest upon its broad roof. Have to time this perfectly. He clocks the rifle in place, he's about ti fire. I jump to the wall, bringing my foot to a brick from the wall to quickly dart to the other side of the wall. As I do this the flash of the mans rifle illuminate the space around me for that split second. He loosens up his stand, checking to see if I had been hit, he clearly closed his eyes at the last moment to stop the light of his own rifle from imparing his vision even further. It was beautifull, the realisation that I was now no longer standing in front of him making the man return his his feet. His fatal mistake. I silently walk up behind him, removing the standard issue combat knife, compliments of my first guard, from his hip, stabbing the serrated blade into the mans neck, leaving it there. His body twitches violently. He will be dead in a few seconds. I calmly take the sword from his hip as he staggers into the wall with a crash, the crimson already staining his tabbard and armour. Six Down, Four to go.

They all fell rather quickly, suprising in fact. After the first ones had let off a few gun rounds, all you could hear was them shouting, trying to locate one another, though in my eyes, they were simply giving away their positions, making it easier to land a killing blow. Finally, the armoury. This is where those glorious bastards would have stocked all of my weapons and small nik-naks when they arrested me. I don't waste time with any sentimental crap. I grab my sword and dagger from the the weapons rack, along with my three pouches. No idea where my goggles were, one of the guards probably had off with them, not that they would know how to use them. I give it a few seconds before I continue down the corridors, making sure there were no other guards on my case. Nothing, not a sound. I get the blast doors of the holding cell, just through here, out of the courtyard and I`m scott free. I give the door a solid push, looking yet another set of rifles, firing line, very much the same as the one that killed my friend. I`m not going to make the same mistake he did, not one of them will be left standing. I quickly grab a smoke ball from my pouch. Now, for all of you who do not know what a smoke ball is, or what it is used for, pay close attention, because I will only use this once, and once only. I throw the small device to the ground, filling the doorway with a thick plume of black smoke, giving me enough time to lay down on the ground flat. Usually in this situation, when the men do not know where to shoot, they shoot to the left, the right, even in the dead centre, but never the ground. The muskets go off, shreding the doorway into fragments. I was right, not one was aimed for the ground.

"...Did....Did we get him?"

One of them asks shakily. Sorry pal, not this time. I rise to my feet, the black of the smoke still keeping me invisible to their untrained eyes. Take a deep breath, know your bodies limitations, and push yourself to those limits. I use what energy I could muster to leap from the smoke. The adrenaline from the last kills still fresh in my blood. The dagger already lay in my hand as I advance through the smoke into their vision once again. They stutter, already trying to reload their guns, not thinking of drawing their swords instead. Such a pity. I plant my dagger into the still screaming throat of the first guard, tearing its serrated blade through still warm meat and flesh as I twirl around 'soon to be' corpse. The dagger tears through air between me and another soldier, slamming harshly between the visor of his helmet. What a shot, I truly didn't think that one would work. Two down, three to go. I draw my sword, its slower than the dagger, but has more power to it. I bring the blade above my head, seeming to strike down at the mans head, leaving him holding his rifle in two hands to try and stop the attack. That move works every time. I reverse the sword in my hand, ducking under him to slip the blade into the now exposed armpit of his armour. The reason my sword seems a little too long for a n offhand weapon? Well, I know that on a human, if placed where it was now, your lungs are now looking about as well as a pinata at a childs birthday due. He falls to the ground, leaving me standing there, staring down the remaining two. One of them draws his sword, giving a pathetic excuse of a battle cry. He was sloppy, letting the demoralising defeat of his comrades cloud his judgement. Simply enough move to overcome. I step to one side, using the mans own weight against him, sidestepping and slipping my sword up the back of his armour, slicing those 'oh so precious' tendons in his spine. Harsh I know, but it was his own fault. Probably an asshole too. I turn back to the last one, his rifle already clocked at the ready. Dammit. I wasn't paying attention. The device goes off, leaving the imposing round to shread cleanly through his shoulder, forcing me to the ground. Get up dammit....Get up. Now. I growl in defiance, forcing myself to my feet. The action alone leaves the mans stummbling back, crashing onto his ass.

"P-Please...I-...I was jus-"

I don't let him finish, cuting the mans throat open with a single swing of my sword, leaving it looking more like a letter box than a mans neck. One gurgled breathe later, I was alone again. Just me, and five fresh bodies on the ground. That last shot though, the pain growing in my shoulder. I cant hold the sword any longer. Got to get out. It must have taken me a good hour to get to the gryphons. Even then it was a mission within itself to get onto one of their backs. Don't think anything of it, I`m in the air, even if the beast is trying to throw me off. I give the animal a good smack in the side of the head, letting it know who's boss. I think it must have been the third smack that left the animal stunned. It begins to desend towards the ground, tilting to one side slightly as the snow below begins to grow closer and closer and closer.

I`m not sure how long I was out cold, but I can't move. The bones in my body refusing to give me any motion back. The gryphon, already gone from what I can see. The air around me, kissing at my lungs with ever breath.

I'm sorry love, I guess I broke my promise after all.

~Story End~


End file.
